School of Fear (9 page)

“Seriously, Sheriff, build a road!” Garrison blurted out.

“If it ain’t broke, why fix it,” the sheriff responded.

“Save your silly sayings for someone else. That thing is death on a hook. I felt like a fish being reeled in! Just look at
that thing. When was the last time it was inspected?” Theo asked seriously. “I am making a mental note to contact the building
department. Do you hear me, Sheriff?”

The mountaintop was enclosed by a soaring stone wall, lined by eerily still crows gazing toward Farmington in the distance.
Madeleine had the sensation of being on an island in the sky, far removed from anything she knew. Quietly she prayed that
the high altitude and sheer cliffs kept spiders and insects at bay.

The van passed under the stonewall arch, bringing Summerstone, in all its glory, into view. Lulu, Madeleine, Theo, and Garrison
could not explain why the intricate molds of the mansion’s limestone façade or the patchy green grass intimidated them so
greatly, but it did. Even the overgrown shrubs prompted the hairs on the back of their necks to stand up. While admittedly
creepy and poorly maintained, the mansion retained a certain regality with its stunning architecture and vast size. A few
coats of paint and a gardener would do wonders for the place.

The sheriff slowly drove up the gravel path, allowing the children to drink in their surroundings, before stopping in front
of the mansion’s formal entrance. A wooden door eight feet wide and twenty feet high with an owl cast-iron knocker added to
the imposing tone. To the right and left of the door were large glass lanterns hanging from rusted gold chains.

The old man from the crane waddled up the stairs, stopping in front of the gargantuan door. While the man’s long-expired driver’s
license listed him at five foot nine, a large boil at the base of his neck brought him down to five foot five. Polyester black
slacks belted below his armpits made his chest less than six inches in length. Over the years, the man’s belly had expanded,
and in a vain attempt to hide it he hiked up his trousers. Even worse than the man’s fashion sense was the long wisp of gray
hair that wrapped around the top of his head like a turban. If unwound, the hair would surely hang below his shoulders. It
was by far the most elaborate comb-over in New England.

“Well, here we are, kids,” the sheriff announced from the front seat of the van.

“Who is that
weird
-looking guy?” Garrison questioned the sheriff.

“That’s Schmidty, Summerstone’s caretaker.”

“This doesn’t look anything like the brochure,” Lulu said with irritation.

Madeleine and Theo remained silent, but their faces mirrored Lulu’s shocked expression. Clearly all four of them had received
the same brochure of beautiful, manicured grounds filled with children running and playing. This was an isolated, dark manor
well past its prime.

A stunned Lulu exited the van first, followed quickly by an alarmed Theo. He wanted to cry, but he worried that Lulu would
scold him again. She was a little scary. Garrison exited, grateful that there didn’t appear to be a pool, and Madeleine remained
in the car with her hands politely folded in her lap.

Noticing her lack of movement, the sheriff stuck his head back into the van.

“Sir, I would prefer to stay in the van. The outside looks particularly spider-friendly.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, young lady. I need to take the van back into town. But don’t worry; Schmidty’s going to take
you inside now to meet your teacher.”

Madeleine’s stomach churned wildly as she climbed over the seat and prepared to exit the van. She had to depart or the anticipation
would make her vomit. Madeleine placed her right, then her left foot on the cement steps. She sprayed repellent wildly as
the old man opened the front door.

“Sheriff, before you depart, I’ll need Mac back,” Schmidty announced formally.

“Of course, almost forgot.”

The fat dog ambled out of the front seat and into the fog Madeleine had created. Displeased by the air quality, Macaroni released
a low-level growl to clear his throat.

“See you in six weeks, kids,” the sheriff said before waving goodbye.

“Six weeks?” Garrison mumbled in response to the sheriff.

None of them could imagine lasting the hour, let alone six weeks at this place.

S
ummerstone’s foyer was unusually spacious with pink fleur-de-lis wallpaper peeling from the ceiling. Aside from the drooping
wallpaper, the room was pristinely maintained and incredibly clean. Much to Madeleine’s relief, there wasn’t a cobweb in sight.
Still, as a precaution, she sprayed a circle around her feet, causing the others to inch away. Schmidty left the children
in the foyer in order to lower the sheriff off the mountain with the crane.

The foursome stood awkwardly around an oval chestnut table with a vase of pink hydrangeas. As they surveyed the room, it was
hard to ignore the far wall decorated with pictures of beauty queens with beehive hairdos, crowns, sashes, and extremely shiny
teeth. Shoes clacking across a wooden floor interrupted the students’ inspection of their new surroundings. At the top of
the sweeping staircase, an elderly woman in a powder blue knee-length skirt and matching jacket stood femininely with her
right leg slightly bent, as if posing for a photograph.

The woman’s clothes, like the interior of the house, dated from the mid-to-late 1950s. With four sets of eyes on her, she
delicately and pretentiously sashayed down the staircase. Theo, Madeleine, Garrison, and Lulu had no way of knowing what to
expect, since so far nothing had been what they’d thought it was going to be.

As the woman approached, her sagging paper-thin skin came into focus. She had clearly invested an enormous amount of time
applying makeup to hide her age. The woman had bubblegum pink lips, thick black eyeliner, fake eyelashes, and light blue eye
shadow that matched her outfit. Madeleine, grateful she hadn’t lifted her veil, stared freely at the peculiar-looking woman
in a brown bob wig.

Lulu stifled laughter as she noticed tortoiseshell glasses hanging from a gold chain around the woman’s neck. Not even Lulu’s
grandmother in Boca Raton wore her glasses on a chain. Trailing behind the woman as she made her grand entrance were four
cats — two black and two gray. She paused in front of the students and waited for the cats. Once all the felines were down
the stairs, the old woman began.

“Hello, I am Mrs. Wellington, your teacher, headmistress, and all-around center of the universe at School of Fear,” she said
in a haughty tone. “I assume you have already met Schmidty, the groundskeeper slash cook slash office assistant. He’s nearly
blind, so if you make a snide face at him, he’ll hardly notice. As for Mac, he’s still recovering from the death of his partner,
Cheese, so be kind. I should add that only Schmidty and I are to call him Mac; he’s Macaroni to you. And the cats — Fiona,
Errol, Annabelle, and Ratty — are my greatest achievement, literally living proof of my teaching abilities. I trained these
cats. And if I can train a cat, I can definitely train you.”

“What have you trained them to do?” Lulu asked.

“To behave completely untrained. Quite exemplary if I may say so myself,” Mrs. Wellington said with a cackle.

“Are we being filmed? Is this a reality show? Our parents’ idea of a joke?” Garrison asked sincerely.

“I didn’t think my parents even had a sense of humor,” Lulu responded honestly.

“They don’t, dear. And the only camera in this house is a 1953 Polaroid Land Camera for which they stopped making film. So
unfortunately, your dreams of national embarrassment are over. Please mourn silently,” Mrs. Wellington said while stopping
in front of Lulu.

“Name?”

“Lulu Punchalower.”

Mrs. Wellington nodded and sauntered over to Garrison.

“Name?”

“Garrison Feldman.”

Mrs. Wellington again nodded and proceeded on to Madeleine.

“Name?”

“Madeleine Masterson.”

Mrs. Wellington again nodded and turned toward Theo; however, before she could ask his name, he told her.

“Hello, my name is Theo Bartholomew, and I was wondering if I could call my mom. I’m really concerned. What if she ran out
of gas, got into a car accident, or picked up a deranged hitchhiker? I need to get to a phone as soon as possible.”

Mrs. Wellington locked eyes with Theo, her bright pink lips turning dark crimson.

“Wow, your lips change colors,” Theo unwisely said aloud.

“I was born with an exceptionally high number of capillaries in my lips. They are rather wide and close to the surface, allowing
those around me to see them blush, if you will, when embarrassed or, more aptly, annoyed.”

“Are you embarrassed?” Theo asked sincerely.

“What in Heaven’s name do I have to be embarrassed about?”

“I don’t know, maybe your makeup,” Theo said earnestly. “All I know is, you haven’t known me long enough to be annoyed. My
brothers say it takes over a year to fully comprehend how annoying I am.”

“Clearly, I am an exceptionally fast learner as I can already tell that you are annoying, with a capital A, or maybe just
a capital everything. Oh forget it; I am too annoyed to even explain how annoying you are… .”

While Theo may have been annoying, the foursome was beginning to realize that Mrs. Wellington might be more than a tad batty.

C
ontestants, contestants, please listen,” Mrs. Wellington announced to Lulu, Theo, Madeleine, and Garrison.

“What did you call us?” Lulu asked confrontationally.

“Contestants. Is English not your first language, Lulu?”

“Of course, but we’re not contestants, we’re students.”

“Well, if you insist English is your first language, perhaps it simply isn’t your best subject, because you are definitely
a contestant.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, Lulu, you most certainly are.”

“All right, then what am I a contestant in?” Lulu asked with raised eyebrows and a self-assured smirk.

“In the beauty pageant of life, you silly little freckle-faced girl,” Mrs. Wellington continued as if it were the most obvious
of answers.

“Life is not a beauty pageant,” Lulu responded.

“Then why am I wearing lipstick?”

Lulu stared at Mrs. Wellington, dumbfounded by her rationale.

“A beauty queen is always prepared,” Mrs. Wellington said, answering her own question, or so she thought. “Now then, you children
must be famished. And a hungry contestant is soon to be a grumpy one, so leave your bags here; Schmidty will handle them after
lunch. Follow me and don’t touch anything. I don’t take kindly to dirty hands,” Mrs. Wellington said as she led the students
past the stairway to the start of the Great Hall.